at the end of my marriage

I watched an eclipse

of a blood moon

without you,

my fists still curled

from holding your arm

as you fought my grip

even brightness in the dark

is told that it bleeds when it blushes

and yet we still look for love

as if it weren't always cutting through us

we imagine the riches it gives

like an eternal throne.

I imagined walking down streets alone

my feet feeling the sharp grit and hum

of drums

down 17th Avenue

salt settling on the tops of my feet

imprinting my grief on the concrete

I let myself cry because I saw strangers eyes on me

and I wanted them to notice that I was alone

no other shadows behind me

just my own carved out of the world

as I entered it, as I will die in it

nothing and everything

without you

telling me what to feel.

My dying was never real, to you anyway,

the parade thrown at my funeral

and the dirges fading in the air

that will float on whispers heading to sunken ships

all of it was to celebrate

your bloody eclipse.


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